Melt With You
by jypzrose
Summary: Layla and Warren share a special moment before Gwen’s nefarious plan is revealed at homecoming. Warren/Layla


Melt With You

**Melt With You**

**By Jypzrose**

**Rating T **

**Summary-Layla and Warren share a special moment before Gwen's nefarious plan is revealed at homecoming.**

**Disclaimer-Don't own it. Don't sue. **

**A/n-**So, I told myself I WOULD NOT start yet another fan fiction in yet another fandom. I have three going in Hairspray and Tinman. Not to mention original fiction. I so don't need the stress. And I do have TWO fic bunnies for Sky High floating around in my head, but I won't start them until my original is done. Mainly because, yeah, three in progress as it is. However, I figured a one shot could be doable and this one just kind of flowed out of me. I'm a Warren/Layla fanatic, and I put a challenge up on the Warren/Layla board but no one seems to want to take it, so I'll take it myself. Enjoy, review. I can be bribed to write more. One shots for now. No multi chap fics until after the original is done. Now, end massive authors note and on with the story. Thanks**.**

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The decorations in the gym at Sky High were cheesy at best, typical at worst with that smoky mood lighting that dominated every teen movie he'd ever _not_ wanted to see. Complete with crappy cover band in out of date 80's clothes. All the setting needed was a couple of star-crossed lovers defying the dictates of their cliques staring gooey eyed at each other. If that happened, he just might kill himself.

Needless to say, the irony was lost on him.

Warren looked around the space, ignoring the other dancers, his eyes searching for one person. When he found her he moved quickly across the room. He was late, hell, he hadn't been one hundred percent sure he was going to come. Not after the little sit down he had with Stronghold at _The Paper Lantern_.

But, the thought of her standing there, alone, was too much for him. Without letting himself consider that, he'd gotten dressed, managed to get out of the house before his mother could take any pictures and made his way to the bus stop to get the last ride up to Sky High.

And now here he was, moving behind her in time to hear her say, "The boys in this school are jerks." He supposed that the dripping Mr. Boy had something to do with that statement.

"Thanks." He said, managing not to smile when she spun around, clearly surprised. That surprise only deepened when she took in his attire. A pleased smile spread over her face and he was suddenly very pleased himself that he'd dug Barron's tux out of the hall closet where his mother had stuffed it.

Of course, he'd ruined the moment a split second later when he'd said his father didn't need it in solitary. All he could do was stare at the cheese cube she offered him.

"Uhm, do you want to dance?" She asked, jerking a thumb towards the dance floor. She turned her head in such a way, the light danced off her hair and he suddenly found himself struck. He knew, in that second, that dancing was the last thing he wanted to do.

She looked so beautiful standing there. Her silky red hair flowing over her shoulders, the green dress skimming down her slender frame. Her green eyes were still wide, staring up at him with a touch of fear and wonder.

He took a step forward, closing the space between them. He searched her face, taking in every delicate line, the way the lights gave her skin a rosy glow, the slope of her neck as she tilted her head in question. He memorized the shape of her mouth, the way her lips parted with a sharp intake of breath that he somehow heard over the music. He watched as her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, the nervous act making his stomach knot.

He groaned and finally reached for her. He was surprised she didn't run.

He knew, even as his arms circled her waist and his head dipped towards her that this was a mistake. That first sweet sip of her lips wasn't enough to wash away the knowledge that in the end, she was into Stronghold. After the dance, he would be alone again.

But this moment, this _second_ in time was his. And he was going to take it.

_Layla_. Her name exploded in his mind as her taste exploded on his lips. She was so fresh, so sweet. She tasted like honeysuckle and innocence, sunshine and clear skies. She tasted like she never knew anything like him before. He liked it.

Hell, he loved it.

She gasped and he took the chance to slide his tongue inside the warm cavern of her mouth. Then she really gasped, the action lost in the fusion of their mouths. She stood, frozen for a beat, as if she wasn't sure what to do. Then, tentatively, her tongue rose up to meet his making his hands fist in the folds of her dress.

He wasn't a man, with years of experience on how to coax a response out of a woman. He was just a teenage boy-granted a teenage boy that could incinerate city block if he wanted. But still, all he knew was how to take, to seek his own pleasure and hope the girl was having a good time too. Selfish was a teenager's middle name, even if that teenager had super powers.

But…

Every second he kissed her, everything about her engulfed his senses until all he knew was her. Her tiny form fit against him easily, their height difference not even an issue. He finally realized that her hands were in his hair, her slender fingers massaging his scalp, her touch sending tiny shivers running down his spine.

They broke apart long enough to drag in a ragged breath, then he claimed her kiss bruised lips once more. Gentler this time, as some unknown softness rose up in him, demanding he slow down, give instead of take. Cherish the girl in his arms, protect her, keep her safe.

He pulled her closer, cradling her tiny frame against him intimately. He felt the softness of her breasts against his chest, the gentle sway of her hips beneath his hands. Her skin was cool against his, a welcome, almost erotic relief. He felt her tremble as he nipped gently at her mouth. He pulled back and opened his eyes. He felt a strange flutter in his chest at what he saw.

Her peaches and cream skin was flushed, her lips red and moist from their kisses. Her eyes were open, half slits and she was clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping her from sliding to the floor.

"Warren?" This time, _he_ shuddered. The sound of his name in that breathy voice made his heart trip and sent all the blood in his body south. He wanted to scoop her up, find a dark corner-preferably with a flat surface nearby-strip her out of that green dress and see if every inch of her tasted as sweet as her lips.

Since that was too forward too fast, for both of them, he settled for kissing her again.

He decided right then, with her clutching him and her tongue sliding eagerly against his, Stronghold wasn't going to win. Even if she came back to her senses, slapped him silly then went running back to super dork, Will Stronghold _would not win._ Layla was his and he wouldn't let her go easily.

She pulled away, her hands slipping from his neck to grip his vest with her fists. Her forehead rested against his chest as she took in several, slow, steadying breaths. He could feel her heart pounding in time with his. He sensed that she needed a minute. He could practically hear her head spinning as she tried to process this new development.

And to tell the truth, he needed a minute too.

"How long?" she asked, her voice thick. He considered playing dumb, asking her what she meant. But that would have been useless at this point. So, he just did what he did best. He didn't say anything.

He heard her sigh and tore his eyes away from her to watch Gwen as if her speech was suddenly the most interesting thing he'd ever heard. Of course, he didn't hear a word. He was too busy trying not to come apart. Her question made him feel so…he shuddered to even _think_ the word…vulnerable. He felt everything in his life hinged on this answer. Or more directly, her reaction to it.

"Warren," she called his attention back to her, the clear green of her eyes soft as she looked up at him. Her hands had flattened against his chest, the palm of her hand resting over his heart.

He thought that was apt, as she pretty much held it in the palm of her hand, anyway.

"Since you called me cutie." He said with a half shrug. To tell the truth, she'd been a steady fixture in his mind since that night at the _Lantern._ But it was the anger he felt that she'd called him cutie to try to get to Will that clued him into the truth of the situation. He'd burned her that day. But it was nothing compared to how she'd burned him.

Her eyes widened and he shrugged again, feeling foolish. He dropped his hands, his arms feeling strangely empty and prepared to step away. He closed up, feeling his mask of hostile indifference settle on his face before she'd even said a word. She saw his reaction and she opened her mouth and reached for him with one, delicate hand.

"Forget it." He shoved his hands in his pockets and started to turn away.

"No." her fingers curled into the sleeve of his jacket to stop him. She opened her mouth again, the first syllable of whatever she was going to say spilling from her lips.

But, he never got to hear the end of it. Because at that exact moment, all hell broke loose.

END


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